


Three Kings

by IthrynLuin



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25202509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IthrynLuin/pseuds/IthrynLuin
Summary: I've read a lot of great time travel fix-its - but what always seems to happen is they send one (or more) of the Stark kids back, without anything but the knowledge of their past lives.  They never have a plan, they have to spend a lot of energy getting any kind of influence/credibility (being, you know, kids), and in more than a few cases adversaries up to and including the NK himself also have knowledge of the past.The premise of this little sketch is that the Old Gods have sent back the Stark kids previously, but for the reasons above, it doesn't work out.  The Gods try one more time by instead bringing Ned back to his past, after they make him live through what each of the Stark kids experienced.  Ned is then sent to his young adulthood with a plan...***Character and relationship tags will be added as the story progresses.***All characters and IP belong to GRRM of course, and he and HBO own all rights. I'm merely playing in GRRM's sandbox.  TBH, I wish he'd play in his own sandbox - but I'm being a sweet summer child who hasn't been paying attention.
Relationships: Jon Arryn/Catelyn Tully, ned stark/ashara dayne
Comments: 39
Kudos: 143





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

**Prologue**

“Holy Fuck!”, Ned exclaimed, gasping as he came out of the vision, or nightmare, or whatever it was that these old gods had shown him. If they were shocked by his blasphemy, they didn’t show it. Then again, their faces didn’t show much to begin with. “So all of that happened?”

“Yes. The atrocities against your family were the first time. We tried sending just your children back a second time to fix matters. Being but children, they were unsuccessful and not able to change enough factors, and were only able to convince you or other lords to a degree. Nor did they have sufficient time to prepare,” came back the voices that sounded like nothing so much as leaves rustling in the wind.

“So this time we knew that we needed to have you live everything your children experienced, we realized that we would need to send you back much earlier, we thought it would be best if you had a plan before being sent back, and decided that you will be able to share what we have shared with you with individuals you come across to bring them to your side.”

Ned nodded, determined to do everything in his power to set things right.

“Any questions?”

With a smirk, Ned nodded. “Aye. So this shows you’re real. The red god is real, and the Great Other is also real. The Seven are just horseshit aren’t they?”  
  
“The formal faith of the Seven is as a child’s fairytale. But as in any tale, there is an underlying kernel of truth – one you must understand. In this case, while septons and septas have no unique insight or ability beyond an ordinary smallfolk, and the seven pointed star about as useful as a Zorse on Farwynd Isle – there is significance to the number Seven as it is the number of dimensions in our creation. So not coincidentally – your ability to impart what you know will be limited to 7 people. Choose wisely, for even with your knowledge and all the time to prepare and all the power you already command, this is still a longshot.”

Ned sighed before gathering himself and asking: “What must I do?”


	2. Tywin

283 AC – _Late in Robert’s Rebellion, Red Keep great hall_

Tywin couldn’t believe it. He found himself on his knees, bound, with all his soldiers dead, and worst of all, being forced to answer for his actions. 

How had this 19 year old boy – now the Lord Stark - managed all this? Bad enough that he had ambushed his own force and massacred – there was no other word for it – the absolute best of his army. Bad enough the boy had forestalled Clegane and Lorch… but the young lord had somehow had a septon and a maester at hand alongside the northern soldiers to record their confession that they had been acting on his orders. It was as if the Stark already knew of his plans.

No matter. Lord Stark might have benefited from a good spy, but he, Lord Tywin, had been playing this game much longer.

“Lord Stark, my men were only securing the capital and the throne for Robert. Surely this is a … misunderstanding.”

The young lord looked at him with a look he might give one of his own bannermen, or his children if one of them did something particularly foolish, which was often. “If you wanted to secure the throne, you could have joined us earlier – which I note you didn’t. I don’t see how sacking a city or murdering a woman and two children helps our cause – especially since we’ve already won. In fact, it weakens it as we’d then be perceived – rightfully – as monsters. It’s just fortunate I was there to stop your men.”

Tywin licked his lips. He needed to try another approach. “My lord, given that we’re stepping into a new world, is it really necessary to try me for an issue such as this? At the end of the day, the harm did not occur, and I am Lord Paramount of the West. I am sure Robert would want to keep good relations and have the West in the fold.”

The Stark looked at him with an even more blank expression if that was possible. “And I suppose all of your men that I’ve killed, you’ll just forgive me out of the goodness of your heart?”

“Yes, yes, they mean nothing to me…” Tywin stated in exasperation.

“And what about your son, Jaime?”, the wolf lord responded.

Dread pooled in the pit of Tywin’s stomach. “What about my son Jaime? Come to think of it, where is he?”

“Wyman!”, the Northman called, almost nonchalantly, as if he were asking for his breakfast.  
  
“Yes, Lord Protector?” A burly Northman, with a merman on his breastplate stepped from among Stark’s soldiers.

Lord Stark continued in the same nonchalant tone, “Have your men bring Jaime Lannister, so his father may see him.”

“At once, Lord Protector.” The large northman pointed to a few of his soldiers and went to see to Lord Stark’s command.

Wait. They were addressing the Lord Stark as ‘Lord Protector’. This was unusual. He needed Lord Arryn and Lord Tully here to talk sense into this boy. Maybe even his friend Robert.  
  
“Lord Stark, shouldn’t this wait until Lord Arryn arrives in the capital?”

The Stark merely raised his eyebrows. “Why? I am in charge here. There is nothing that Lord Arryn, or for that matter Lord Robert, could say that will change the circumstances involved.” After the briefest of pauses, he added cryptically, “I’m sure you’ll agree with me shortly.”

Just then the large Northman the Stark had called Wyman returned with his men carrying a box. A box about the length of a body. The dread in Tywin’s stomach turned to bile. “No, no, no…”

As his men opened the casket, the wolf lord calmly said, “I executed him yesterday afternoon for breaking his vows.”

Tywin emitted what he intended to be a roar, but came out as more of a strangled grunt. “You will pay for this. You think this will stand? You and all of yours will pay!”

Eddard Stark, looked on as calmly as ever. This man did indeed have ice in his veins. Or else he was stupid. Other men cowered for lesser threats. Stark however, merely looked curious. “I’m sorry, but how? Last I checked, you’re bound and on trial, and going to be found guilty. The sentence will be death. I’ve killed all your soldiers. Your threats are empty.”  
  
“Young fool. Do you not think my brothers and my uncles will come after you? Do you think their bannermen will not follow them? Do you think the West will join the new order peaceably with their heir and liege dead?”  
  
Just imperceptibly, the look in the Stark’s eyes changed. “To be honest, I think you’re grossly overestimating the courage of the West. I think they would join the new order quite peaceably. It’s not as though your bannermen exactly… like you.” At this the whole hall burst out laughing. Amidst the din, Stark gestured to a few more of his banners.

“But,” Stark cut in, “I think it’s again a moot point.” A number of the Stark bannermen started bringing in burlap sacks. He noted these bannermen were very short of stature – looking like boys unless one looked closely at their faces.  
  
Lord Stark continued, “The flaw in your reasoning Lord Tywin is that you assume you have brothers and uncles and cousins and nephews and bannermen to begin with. You don’t. Not anymore. You’ll have noted my bannermen here – you might not have encountered them before, but they are from our crannogs. They may not seem like the greatest of warriors in the open field – but they can infiltrate, incapacitate… and as you’ll shortly see, decapitate, better than anyone else.” 

And sure enough, the crannogmen laid out the severed heads of the nobility of the Westerlands – Lannisters, Leffords, Lyddens, Marbrands, Crakehalls, Swyfts, Braxes, Farmans, Estrens, Presters, Serretts, Westerlings, and many more besides. There really was no Westerlands left. Tywin had thought this Northern boy a fool, but he was wrong. This boy was ruthless, as he himself was, as any proper lord should be. If only his Jaime had been like Eddard Stark. He should have cultivated relations with the North.  
  
Defeated, the proud lord of Casterly Rock slumped his shoulders and exhaled. “I see. Whatever did I do to earn your enmity? I don't recall having threatened you before.”

“I’ll show you.” With that the younger man, laid his hand on his head. Tywin left the throne room and instead saw a thousand places and one, a thousand times and one, a thousand events and one. Lifetimes later, but what could have only been seconds, he found himself in the throne room again. He knew there was nothing he could say. Before he could say anything, the North Lord spoke.

“I Eddard Stark, Protector of the Realm, Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of the North sentence you, Tywin, to be executed by beheading in front of the populace this afternoon, for the crimes of inciting violence and unrest, murder, conspiracy to murder, attempted sacking of a non-resisting city, conspiracy to attempted murder, and attempted murder of women and children. Evidence already having been received, examined, and accepted as conclusive. Your crimes will be read out in public, as will your guilt prior to the execution of your sentence. House Lannister is formally dissolved, denounced and attained. It is hereby stripped of all lands, titles and honors. The Westerlands and its small-folk will be administered in overlordship by the North.”

As his legacy crumbled in front of his eyes, Tywin realized something. “Cersei,” he croaked, “what of Cersei?”  
  
“Jon,” here the Stark looked at a Northman near as large as the Mountain, “the same as for Clegane or Lorch – eyes, tongue, hands and feet.” The giant nodded grimly at his liege, and all too soon, the giant and his men set about making sure that in his few hours left alive, Tywin would be physically incapable of plotting anything…

With the Northmen’s task done, Tywin waited in agony, when Stark answered his earlier question. “You know, the former lady Cersei seems to have disappeared. With her distinctive appearance, we’re confident we’ll be able to identify her and deal with her when she surfaces.”  
  
Stark’s footsteps got closer, and Tywin could smell the Northman’s leathers as Stark leaned next to his ear. “That’s the official story anyway. In reality, let’s just say that she’s in a location where she can contribute to the war effort in the only way she’s capable of contributing. The important thing is, she’s not a threat, and being out of mind, will fade out of memory. Much like your legacy. Actually while your legacy will fade – the name Tywin, because of your public execution, will live on in infamy, as a man who was a butcher, and a traitor. Ironically, at the end of the day, your father Tytos was much better for the family legacy than you were.”  
  
At this point, with these sickening realizations on top of all his losses, Tywin lost control of his bodily functions.


	3. Jon Arryn

* _A moonturn later, Red Keep Great Hall*_

Jon could only watch as his two former wards – like sons to him and now two of the most powerful men in the Kingdoms – raged at each other. Well, to be accurate, the Storm was raging, unable to believe what he’d heard, while Winter responded coldly.

“Ned, you went to Dorne, why did you not bring my Lyanna back? Where is she?” Robert raged.

“She is dead, Robert. Died on the birthing bed.” Ned returned impassively. Jon knew Ned could be cold but he seemed to be entirely unperturbed at having lost a sister.

“And the dragonspawn, did it survive?” Robert snarled.  
  
Ned’s eyes grew even colder. “My nephew is in perfect health.”

“Give him here! He will be under house arrest until 13 and then sent to the wall.”

“No.” Tully gasped at Ned’s refusal.

“I AM YOUR KING!”

“No. If we keep the seven kingdoms intact, then my nephew is the king.” Jon observed that Ned’s voice had not risen even a little, but there was hard steel in his tone. It was clear that he would brook no argument.

Hoster sputtered, mouth gaping like the fish of his sigil. “But he’s a bastard – bastards may not inherit anything.”

Robert: “Piss on that Tully, he’s born of rape. The prince raped my Lyanna.”

“No, Robert.”

“What? What do you mean?” Robert started to sweat visibly and his breath came more rapidly.

“Robert, Lyanna loved Rhaegar – and he her. When I went to Dorne I found out the truth of things. It’s a long story, they were wed. I’m sorry, but she never loved you, Robert.”

One foster son didn’t sound sorry. Then again he didn’t sound happy either. His other foster son seemed to wither and break before his own eyes. The spark in his eyes dimmed, and Robert slumped into a chair.

It was time to intervene. He pulled the Lord of Winterfell aside. “Ned, look at Robert – he looks like his parents died again. Your own brother. Did he really have to hear that?”

“He destroyed himself. Believed in something despite the evidence. You can’t be guided by your emotions – you have to think rationally.”

“Be that as it may, we needed him. Now what are we going to do for a king? You can’t mean to put a babe on that throne.”

Ned looked at him critically. “Robert can barely stomach the duties of Storm’s End. And do you see him better able to control his… appetites as he gets older? Leave alone that he wouldn’t be a good choice, I don’t think he even truly would want to be king.”  
  
At this Ned turned to his erstwhile friend. “Robert, truth now. You’d have made a shit king. Better than crazy Aerys of course, but how long before you got bored of small council meetings?”

Robert replied brokenly: “Aye. Sometimes being Lord Paramount seems like more than enough.”

Jon could not believe his foster sons, either of them. “So what are we going to do?”, he asked without thinking. To his disgust, Lord Tully chimed in.

“We should summon Lord Lannister and come to an agreement that is acceptable between the five…”

“No.”

Jon could see that Ned was losing tolerance with the grasping Lord Tully. It wasn’t a surprise that the oldest of the great families found the newest of the great families’ ambitions to be distasteful, but this was more. Ned simply did not respect old Hoster. Perhaps it had something to do with what he had observed of his children.  
  
“Lord Tully, there is no more Lord Lannister.” His former ward sounded almost bored.  
  
“What…” he spluttered.

Jon broke into a cold sweat, but held up a hand to silence Tully. “Ned, what do you mean there is no more Lord Lannister?”  
  
“Well I caught the Westermen trying to murder Queen Elia and Princess Rhaenys.”

Robert perked up at the mention of Rhaenys and was likely to say something about ‘Dragonspawn’, but remembered what had happened and went back to looking defeated.

Hoster looked ready to go into convulsions, but Jon pushed on. “So you executed him?”

“Yes, they had committed multiple crimes and the evidence was undeniable. As Lord Protector, it was my duty to see justice done.”

“Who is to be the new Lord of the West? What were you thinking? Why did you do this?” Tully’s mouth again giving him an uncanny resemblance to the fish of his sigil, as he mentally flopped around, struggling to understand Ned’s revelations. It was a bit comical, but he himself was concerned at his former ward’s actions.  
  
“He was being insolent.” At this Ned threw a dark look at his soon to be Goodfather. Things were going to be difficult if this continued.

Jon’s head was spinning. “Ned we are adrift here. You will not let Robert take the Crown, you have executed the Lord Paramount of the Westerlands, and your nephew, the true heir, is too young to rule. What do you propose?”

“Truth now. Who was the last good king we had? Who was the last good hand? The Kingdoms are a bit too big and unwieldy to manage.”  
  
Jon was a student of history, but couldn’t think of a decent king in his own lifetime. Tywin had been a capable hand, but could hardly be called ‘good’. Tully couldn’t come up with an alternative either, and Robert was still dazed.

Ned’s behavior had started to concern him a bit, but as usual, his quiet ward had given matters some thought. “So what do you propose, my boy?”  
  
“We partition the Seven kingdoms. The North, West, Vale, and Riverlands will be constituted as the new Kingdom of the Greater North. Dorne will be given independent status – contingent on a military alliance with us. When we call, they answer. Since I saved their princesses, I’m reasonably convinced that we can form a military alliance with them, against their natural foes, the Reach. The Stormlands will be a semi-autonomous region, paying tribute to the Greater North. The Reach will pay heavy tribute to the Greater North and the Stormlands.”  
  
Jon found himself nodding, putting the pieces together quickly once Ned had laid out the premise. “Intriguing. Yes – you’ll make a good king. And with the Kingdom centered on the North, this is an easy and logical claim to make – a Stark as King in the North. You’ve conquered the West, I bring the Vale, and Hoster brings the Riverlands.” Jon thought this an excellent arrangement…even if it did leave Robert to his own devices. “What about the Iron Islands?”  
  
Ned answered calmly, but with a nearly imperceptible glint – was that … excitement? “With the kingdoms fragmenting, I expect them to rebel in the next few years. We have too much to do to build up the Northern Kingdom to waste time deciding on who the Ironborn will rebel against, so not worth bothering with. Officially they will owe significant restitution to the mainland for reaving in the past.”  
  
Hoster seemed to recover, no doubt because Cat would now be Queen. “What will you do when they do rebel, your Grace?”  
  
“I will put down their rebellion, once and for all.” The way Ned said it, given what had just happened to the Western lords, and the fact that the Northmen hated the Ironborn where they held no particular malice towards any Westermen but the Lannisters made Jon’s blood run cold.

“The Crownlands, Dragonstone, and parts of the Reach abutting the Crownlands will be held by the Greater North as well. When my nephew comes of age, if he is of the right temperament and has been trained properly, we will reconstitute the Seven Kingdoms and he will be King. Otherwise, these realms will be his fief and that of his family after,” Ned continued.

Pausing, his former ward looked up. “The Northern Kingdom will need a small council – Lord Arryn, I would name you Hand of the King.”

Even as Jon responded to accept graciously, Hoster piped up, looking a little disappointed, “Your Grace, I know that I am already your Goodfather-to-be, but I would like to put forward my candidacy as Master of Laws.”

“Lord Tully, I am already promised to another, so you will not be my Goodfather. However, I will consider you for Master of Laws.” 

“What? But you made a pact to marry my Cat!” Tully’s face had gone as red as one of his house colors.

“I made no such pact. My lord father made a pact to marry Brandon to Cat, but Brandon is dead. I have already made a commitment to another woman.”

“Who is she? She cannot be of greater import than my Cat. Set her aside – I demand it.”

Despite the dramatics of Lord Tully, Jon was curious. “Ned, who is your lady?”

“Ashara Dayne of Starfall. A lady of one of the oldest houses in Westeros, and my true love besides.”

Hoster looked desperate, “How about your younger brother, Brendan was it?” 

Ned did not look amused, “ _Benjen_ is but a child and a damn fool who has delusions of going to the wall – not that I will permit that - but regardless, Lady Catelyn is far too old for him. And before you insult my House further by bringing up Lysa, I know all about Lysa and your little … ward. You will send Lysa to the silent sisters, and that will be the end of this.”

Hoster’s face had turned ashen, knowing he had nowhere to go. “But we had a deal…”

His former ward’s face darkened. “I am altering the deal – pray I don’t alter it further.” Whatever air remained seemed to deflate out of Tully.

The situation did seem to amuse Robert, who perked up for the first time “Ned you dog, Ashara Dayne!”

At this, Ned did crack a smile for his old friend. But he also seemed to be thinking something. “Robert, do you really want the Stormlands, or would you serve as my Master of War? How about it – all the whores you can bed…”  
  
Robert’s eyes lit up? “Really? You promise? You’re just japing with me…”

Jon rolled his eyes as one of his wards seemed to toy with the other.

To Jon’s shock, Ned then looked deadly serious. “Aye, Robert, I promise. But as Master of War, you must remain battle ready – training and devising strategies every day. The whores won’t sap your strength, but too much food and wine will – so you’ll need to control those...”   
  
He could see the man he thought of as nearly a son, pause before setting out the final hook for the other man he nearly thought of as a son, “… because the other thing I promise Robert – is there will be plenty for you to do in your new role. Winter is coming.” The whole room seemed to go cold at Ned’s words, as if he had been able to summon the darkness with his words alone.

Then as soon as it had come, the seeming gloom disappeared. Ned looked to him, seemingly as light as he had all day, “That’s it, I have the solution. Jon, I think of you as a second father, but you need sons of your own to carry on the Arryn name. And Hoster, you wanted to be Goodfather to the most powerful man in the realm. Lady Catelyn shall marry Lord Arryn, and that way your daughter will be wife to the Hand, and the Hand will have children.”

Hoster did not dare to look disappointed in front of him, if he even was. The man was ambitious above all else – as Rickard would say ‘grasping’ - so his daughter marrying the second most powerful man on the continent was probably what he would have hoped for anyway. For his own part, he was happy to be marrying Catelyn rather than Lysa. Lysa was younger, true, but Catelyn seemed the more stable of the pair – if a little too pious. Still maybe away from her Septa, the influence would lessen.

Robert meanwhile, looked like he had a new lease on life. “Ned, who are you going to put in charge of the Stormlands? Give it to Renly over Stannis – it would be a hilarious jape. Stannis would be so mad.”  
  
And Jon saw that rarest of things – the Quiet Wolf threw his head back and howled with laughter, Robert joining in. Wiping tears from his eyes, Ned gasped out, “Oh that was a good one Robert… for a second I thought you were serious about putting your little brother who likes dolls and shiny trinkets over a proven battle commander in charge of one of the Kingdoms. That was good.” Ned was still chuckling.

Robert looked a little uncertain, but recovered quickly. “Yeah it was a good one, wasn’t it Ned?”

Ned nodded, looking pleased. “My lord hand, I will take your recommendation for other positions on the council, and there are new positions I’d like to draw up, but I believe we can leave that for a different time.”

Jon nodded. He was a little disoriented as the contours of Westeros as he knew it had been redrawn in marked ways over the last hour, but at least it seemed as though the future were a lot brighter for House Arryn than before the war. For that at least, he was thankful.


End file.
